


On the wrong side of temptation

by SheenaWilde



Category: The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Genre: Drabble, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 09:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12318351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheenaWilde/pseuds/SheenaWilde
Summary: Basil is painting Henry and Henry gets distracted. Henry Wotton is not a nice person but he knows it.





	On the wrong side of temptation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emocsibe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emocsibe/gifts).



Henry was standing with his clothes immaculate, his hair combed perfectly, his back straightened and a pipe in his hand. Henry was standing like that for hours – and across from him, half-hidden by his canvas was Basil, working furiously on a portrait about him. Since he was absolutely bored with standing still and Basil had forbidden him to talk, he was watching his friend.

Basil was fully invested in painting. Henry had already seen him painting on several occasion during their friendship, of course, it had been formed far too long ago for Henry not to have that opportunity. Or privilege, rather, as he always enjoyed watching Basil work. The painter was always totally invested in whatever he was working on – from the most boring peace of a still-life painting to a charming, coy lady who was looking seductively at the artist from under long eyelashes. Henry always had to laugh at them. While he himself quite appreciated their beauties, he was perfectly aware that his friend had no eyes for the finer sex. No, Basil appreciated toned, muscled chest, broad shoulders he could hold onto, and conquering, triumphant looks in his seducers. He had Basil admit to this several years ago on a drunken night. He had suspected this of his friend earlier, of course, so many years of close friendship can’t pass without noticing something of this importance. But it was that evening he had ever voiced the question lingering in the back of his mind, and Basil, inebriated as he was, had answered honestly to him, fear flashing in his eyes as he did so. Henry had only laughed lightly at that, leaned back in his armchair and assured him that his secret was safe with him – he merely wanted to make sure.

Henry had seen Basil paint so many times he couldn’t count but he was still always amazed by the sheer amount of concentration he was painting with. Now that he was ‘only’ painting him, Basil didn’t bother to dress up – he was in a loose fitting shirt and simple hose. His hair was standing up in odd angles from how he occasionally ran his fingers through it while staring at his model, contemplating something or another Henry had never bothered to ask, and when he was focusing on the painting, he sometimes stuck out his tongue. Henry could never resist to chuckle at that, which earned him a chiding look from Basil because he moved. Oh, the drama, Henry absolutely did not feel it.

“Really, Henry, the more you move, the longer it’ll take” Basil sighed after he had reproached his friend for the fifth time in as many minutes, or so it felt. “If you want to take a break, tell me so, but stop fidgeting while you are posing.”

“I didn’t wish to disturb you, my dear Basil” Lord Henry started with a sigh, but put the pipe down from his hand and rolled his shoulder, feeling the tension shoot up in his muscles painfully. He was getting older, there was no way to go around that fact, and with age, more pain came, more pain from exercises that should cause him none as they used to do. But alas, age and pain came hand in hand, as it seemed, and as frightful as it was, he had started to understand the hour-long wailing old widowers were known to do. He, however, whole-heartedly hoped he would not be prone to do so himself. “But maybe a short pause would do us both good.”

“Yes, I have to agree” Basil nodded as he put down his brush and palette. He reached for a rag and wiped his hands, paint smearing onto the dirty grey fabric. The loose neck of his shirt had fallen off his shoulder as he was leaning forward and revealed a large portion of his shoulders. Now that was something even Henry’s eyes were inadvertently drawn to, the exposed skin snow white and flawless, the curve of his neck perfect and inviting – he eyed his friend’s enchanting form carefully, trying to steer his own thoughts away.

He had never been a moralistic man, he was very well aware of it. He manipulated people as he wished, used them to achieve his own goals and discarded them when he saw no more use for them, with only a small circle of treasured friends remaining around him, but even they weren’t safe from his venom, sometimes, when he lost control of himself. Yes, Lord Henry was perfectly aware of his less than fine qualities and did not care much about them. But even he had boundaries he would never cross – and even though he frequently annoyed Basil, provoked him, poked him until he got a reaction, there was a few things he forbade himself to do. Such as thinking of his one true friend in the manner he was now. Henry turned away from Basil and shook his head. He needed to clear his thoughts, he needed to stay strong, keep himself to his beliefs, keep the one clean thing he had untainted.

“Would you like some tea, Henry? You seem very pale to me” he heard Basil’s concern-laced voice coming from behind his back. He sighed, the ever-caring Basil of course noticing his one true misery. He was an artist, a painter after all, for God’s sake, his only task in life was to observe and preserve things. Then, as he failed to answer, Henry felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He whipped around, grabbing the hand, and backed Basil up to the wall of his studio, watching the shocked look on his friend’s face as he did so. His shirt was still hanging low on one shoulder, and Henry raised his other hand to trace the outline of it from Basil’s arm all the way up to his jaw, his touch just barely there on Basil’s tender, white skin. Then he pulled back, releasing Basil’s hand that he had been gripping with more force than he meant to, and took a few strides away from him, cursing himself silently.

“Harry, I- I don’t-” Basil stuttered behind his back, and as he risked a glance above his shoulders, he saw the painter stagger towards him, a confused look on his face as he was tugging his shirt back onto his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do absolutely anything, Basil” Henry said in a voice as cold and free of emotions as he could manage. “Let us resume to the painting, shall we? I would like to get today over with finally.”

“But Harry-”

“No, Basil, we are absolutely not talking about- about what has just happened” Henry stopped him in the coldest voice he could manage – the voice no one ever dared talk back to.

“As you wish. Have it your way then” Basil said silently, and Henry finally felt brave enough to turn around and face his friend- And there was Basil, sweet, gentle Basil, striding towards him, all determination and power- There was Basil, grabbing his coat and pulling him into a kiss, hard and passionate and not innocent at all, making Henry shiver bodily as he held onto the painter’s sides for leverage and kissed back with all his might- Then there was Basil, shy and pure Basil, looking not shy and pure at all but like the very image of seduction, the shirt off his shoulder deliberately and lips swollen from the kiss, with his eyes burning with want. “Don’t look so shocked, Henry. I only promised you no talking.”

Then Basil was dragging Henry down to another kiss, and now, now Henry let himself enjoy it, because Basil was no angel and was in no need of his protection.


End file.
